October 23, 2014

Have started a tumblr as a means of viewing, organising, grouping and collating photographs and images of artworks, sketches and items of interest. From both digital and analog cameras, home and abroad. An excellent method to find new patterns and narratives within images and creating previously unrecognized links to other photographs, some long forgotten.

Roy Orbison's dream - a poem/text work built of Roy's song titles mentioning dreams. An experiment in words which straddles that thin crevasse between song and poetry. The word 'dream' now appears completely foreign too me. As when one repeats a word aloud too and it loses any meaning, reverting back to just sounds. It seems this can happen with written words as well. Too many dreams, Roy, too many dreams.

August 11, 2014

Looking back through the images taken from Rome's Eur district I was struck by a sort of half-formed narrative slowly appearing within the shots. The place was deserted, the whites and greys of the buildings adding an unsettling stillness upon the entire area - the only sign of life was the traffic on the wide boulevards, and Italy's small Fiats swerving around roundabouts at speed looked nearly comical in comparison to the towering architecture above. (which, out of habit or disinterest, the drivers ignored.)

These starkly impressive monuments to fascism loom over you like a held-in breath. It creates a cinematic and palpitating atmosphere; there is the sense that this stillness, stagnation, is temporary, a bell will sound
and streams of animated people with surge out of the buildings and populate the avenues - but simultaneously an air of resignation weighs down upon you like the stifling summer heat: a knowledge that it has always been like this, it will always remain like this.

Michelangelo Antonioni shot L'Eclisse here in 1962.

The individual becomes what everyone fears around these structures - miniscule, alone, insignificant. Still photographs reflecting the sensation of a place frozen in time, a stranger in a strange land, Chris Marker's La Jetée; Picnic at Hanging Rock. Déja vu, two people in the same place in different times - don't hold your breath here.

These photographs were taken with no thoughts lingering behind them; but environments will make one act differently, walk differently and impress their presence upon a place in sometimes unnatural ways. Being in the Eur instilled a sort of reverence in me, and deliberateness of manner: every move I made felt slowed down, considered, paced to accommodate the nature of my surroundings.

You just have to stand there and take it all in - it's not about you anymore.

I knew the Pantheon was the one place in Rome I needed to see, because of The Moon. A photograph which hung in the hallway of the family home throughout my childhood. For many years I had believed this photograph to be depicting the moon, and was very impressed at my father's ability to capture the moon up so close, a looming, perfect sphere suspended in the inky matte darkness.

I don't remember when I became aware that the photograph was not of the moon, but I had grown; grown tall enough to see the detail in the image: the visible rectangles of the coffered dome. Clearly this was no moon. How I managed to learn this was in fact a building, a large dome, and my moon was in fact a 9m diameter skylight, I don't recall.

My dad was in Italy in 1981 - he was in the crowd when the Pope was shot. In June, I went to the Pantheon to attempt to recreate his original image from memory. I had last seen the photo over a year ago, and had not studied it closely for more than five. I am not even certain I got the angle right.

July 24, 2014

Tourist boats on the Seine, scanned and distorted. Attempts to create a surrealistic sensation reminiscent of the boat trip in the 1971 psychedelic masterpiece that was 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory'.
The poor quality of the images give the tourists trigger-happily photographing the banks of the river, cameras raised high, the impression of hands help up in terror or exhilaration. Rollercoaster of the Seine.

I stumbled across this image in a typical Swedish interiors book. Full of 'miss-matched' furniture, stripped back wooden floors, classic scandinavian design, string shelves, novelty slogan posters and tea-towels. The book was titled 'Details', focusing on small well curated corners of apartments, and various 'quirky' items - such as a two-page spread devoted to toilet paper holders - intended to spruce up your home. Styling tip! It's all in the details apparently. My eyes latched on to this photo by pure chance - initially drawn to the beautiful chair-as-bedside table and rough white-washed walls, but on closer inspection was amazed to recognise the artfully stacked pile of books on the windowsill, realising them to be a collection of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö's crime novels, written in the 60's and 70's, featuring the protagonist Martin Beck. I have my own collection of these at home (up on my string shelf in fact), trophies from extensive and dedicated rummaging through second hand stores. These were the first books I read in Swedish. I have a near compulsion to buy any copy I stumble across, including having managed to collect 5 copies of Roseanna, (two in English, 3 in Swedish) the first book in the series. I will make the claim that Roseanna is up there among the greatest novels in not just Swedish crime, but within the crime genre in general.

Sometimes it's not just about having the details, but noticing them as well.

Sundries as
an idea came to me from some pieces of advice my father gave me, via facebook
chat, after I asked him if it were better to take the path of job as job, or
career as lifestyle? Work to pay the bills and devote your free time to your
interests, or make your interests into your career?

The initial
reply

“Follow
your dreams and be true to yourself.”

- -
That’s
not actually that helpful

“Oh.”

But he
expanded on this cliché, and I realised that I should listen to my father more
often.

“yeah it is a hard question. You dont want to feel that you are
treading water or sinking in to hole that you cannot climb out of. Exploit all
of the things you do to find a direction or added value, like writing about
travel for instance - change the creative direction to find a new edge.”

And

“Even writing about Sweden and publishing in NZ, or the otherway around,
just sharing ideas with others and giving with sincerity not just for
commercial gain.”

The two main points which struck me were to 'exploit all things you do to
find a direction or added value – change the creative direction to find a new
edge; sharing ideas with others and giving with sincerity not just for
commercial gain.

One idea for a physical manifestation of all of my different thoughts
has been to create ‘environments’ for want of a better word – spaces with
furniture, artworks and patterns I have created residing harmoniously together.
Sundries is a two-dimensional manifestation of the same concept – juxtaposing
texts, photographs and sketches into cohesive thought patterns over a series of
pages.

All of my areas of interest collide at one point – myself – as the
generator of these ideas. I strive to create connections and patterns between
these separate things. Exploit all of the
things you do to find direction. Sundries offers a gateway into my thought
process and enables a reader to create their own links through the words and
images included.

A series of essays or short texts primarily on my life in Sweden and
thoughts around art. Texts I have written to accompany shows, and pieces from
The Tally Ho. Failed proposals.